Starting Over
by December
Summary: A view of life after the divorce and the remarriage, for the other people on the edges of the blended McDonald-Venturi family. Welcome to the lives of Abby Venturi and Dennis McDonald.
1. Reboot

**Starting Over**

By December

**Prologue: Reboot**

_At a point sometime in the past…._

A redheaded woman walked out of a Canadian courtroom and took a deep breath. Not because she was relieved, as the less than charitable would assume. Not because she was nervous, at least, not as she understood nervousness. No, she took a deep breath because she wasn't sure what to do next.

It was an odd feeling, she conceded as she walked to her car, her heels clicking on the steps down to the parking lot. It was like she had finished a big project or climbed some big mountain…without a plan of what to do afterwards. At least some of the guilt she felt at moments like this stemmed from not having a plan. She didn't think she should have been expected to have a plan at this point; however, this wasn't her dissertation proposal, after all. That was still a long way off, thankfully.

All that musing had brought her to her car, but she found she didn't want to drive away yet. She wasn't sure exactly where she would drive to, anyway. The short and relatively friendly court proceedings had triggered a restart button on her life. When she thought about it, she had just been administered a massive life reboot, because this change actually affected her very identity. It is a little hard to know where you are going if you are no longer sure who you are.

Before she walked into the courtroom that day she was Abigail Marie Lawson Venturi, Abby to her friends. She was a wife, a mother, a graduate student, but, in spite of how active she was, she was not as happy as she wanted to be. Before signing that last piece of paperwork, she was a starter and co-captain for Team Venturi; now she felt like a new-hire adjunct professor without an office. And, yes, she felt so lost that the odd comparison aptly described her situation. Who was she now?

There were a few things she did know. In many circles, she would still be Abigail Venturi. As she had three children with that last name, she still wanted to maintain some tie to them. Especially since she and her now ex-husband had decided that the children were best served living with him. She was afraid if she changed her name that she'd lose that much more of her children, whom she adored.

When she got that PhD in Biology, however, the degree was going to say Abgail Marie Lawson. The degree was _her_ achievement, not her husband's. Some might say her Venturi identity was a causality of her pursuit of the graduate degree, although she thought that was a very simplistic summary of what happened to her marriage. That meant some people would (eventually) call her Dr. Lawson. The idea was strange because she had never expected to be called "doctor" anything in her life.

But her uncertainty about her identity was bigger than what last name she would put on forms or sign on documents. It was about how she fit into the larger world. No one talked about this before people got married. Even with the high divorce rate, everyone just assumed that the couple they knew would be the couple to make it. Friends and family spent a lot of time talking about how to merge two "I"s into a "We." No one ever talked about how one takes a "We" apart to find her "I" again.

When people did talk about divorce to women, the only identity they focused on was the parental one. Along with every expression of sympathy she had received when she began to tell people about the coming end of her marriage, Abby had always been asked the question, "How in the world are you going to manage three kids on your own?" People were quick to recommend support groups, magazines, and on-line resources. Everyone assumed that she would still be parent in chief. Most of them couldn't hide their surprise – and often censure – when she shared that her children's father would retain custody.

Some days she wasn't sure if she was still allowed to use the title of "mother". There were some who would probably say she wasn't. But, if fathers who didn't get custody in divorces still got to be some version of "father," she figured she got to be some version of "mother." Although what that title meant would probably have to be re-defined. No one had thought to warn her about that either.

In essence, no one ever talked about how to start over. She took the deep breath, Abby realized, because that was what she was doing. Starting over. After years of having identity A, she needed to deconstruct, reconstruct, and find identity B. She sighed. The idea just made her head hurt.

Just as she had convinced herself to walk somewhere so that she could sit and think, her watch beeped. It was one-thirty. She had a graduate seminar in an hour at Western, the University of Western Ontario, where she was working on her degree. The reminder was a relief. She could do the work of starting over later. For now, she could lose herself in lots of information about other living things besides herself.

_At another point, in another past, in another country…._

He hung up the phone. It was official. His marriage was now a statistic.

It was an amicable process, all told. So many of his colleagues had shared horror stories about how their first (or second, or third) marriage ended that he had briefly been nervous. He should have known better. After that huge blow-up that led to him moving out, Nora had been nothing but mature and responsible about the whole thing. Although he was sure if he asked his new ex, she would probably say that the process didn't seem so bad because he had been missing in action for years.

The occasional underhanded catty comments actually made him feel better, in a perverse sense. He must have mattered for Nora to even be a little wounded. It was nice to know he wasn't alone in this whole strange hurt-but-relieved feeling.

Everyone around him seemed to be jazzed about this "exciting stage" in his life. His co-workers were encouraging him to throw everything he had into becoming a partner. They would say things like, "It's not like you have family responsibilities anymore, right?" His friends were all excited about this "new page" he was turning. He had heard much more about the nightlife in New York and in Toronto in the past week than he ever wanted to know. Whether he wanted to or not, he was encouraged to embrace this reboot.

This enthusiasm actually annoyed Dennis a lot. Starting over wasn't as easy as everyone seemed to think. He had been married to Nora for years. It was hard to think of what it meant not to have a Nora, even if ending it had been the best thing. Sure, his name didn't change. He was still Dennis Tristan McDonald. Yet, he didn't feel that was fair. If Nora had to have a debate about what name she should use, shouldn't he have to have a similar debate as well? It wasn't like the title of "ex" was solely hers, after all.

And then there were his little girls. They still called him Daddy and he _did_ miss them. Sure, he still saw them when he could and Nora was nothing if willing to work with him on visitation. In fact, her biggest demand was that he stayed involved in the girls' lives. Yet, he wasn't sure if he was allowed to be "Daddy" in the same ways he was Daddy all those years ago in Toronto. He wouldn't be around to celebrate Family Day in February. He wouldn't struggle to put up the tree that Christmas (although it had been a few years since he had). His life of being a father was starting over as well.

This was so different than any case he had to prepare for and nothing like any scenario for which his training would have prepared him. Everyone seemed to think that ending a marriage for a male wasn't a big deal, that it was a minor starting over when compared to what the women went through. For the first time, Dennis realized how unfair that was. He was just as unsure about what to do next as (he would bet money) Nora was. Nora, however, was allowed a support network by virtue of being female; one that didn't seem to extend to the male half of the divorce.

Already, friends they had as a couple were choosing sides. Most of them either chose Nora or chose to dump them both. In the end, he had a few unmarried college buddies, a female or two whose intentions might not be so pure, and lawyers at the firm.

Dennis sighed. It wasn't surprising that men carved out a work identity after a divorce. When starting over after you legally reneged on your wedding vows, you weren't really allowed to start rebuilding your identity anywhere else.


	2. Arrival

**Starting Over**

By: December

**Chapter 1 – Arrival**

Baltimore, Maryland in the United States of America. To be honest, it wasn't a place that Abby ever thought she'd be excited to see. Not that she had a problem with Baltimore, per se. It just wasn't a place in the States that was talked about in Canada. Everyone had heard of places like New York City (especially after that horrible terror attack), Los Angeles, Washington DC, and Las Vegas. Since she had lived with hockey fanatics when she was married, she had also heard a lot about Boston and Buffalo. Given that her family was originally from Windsor, she knew a little bit about Detroit, Michigan as well. But Baltimore? It wasn't initially on her radar.

Whether Baltimore was a known quantity or not, the moment she stepped off the plane, Abby was excited. She was a _co-presenter_ at an international academic conference in her discipline, all because of that research assistant ad she answered. She had originally applied to the research position with the well known professor to help keep her mind off the fact that her marriage hadn't lasted. Although she never said it aloud, part of her believed that since she had failed at marriage, she was not allowed to fail at this higher education thing. Once she got into the research, however, she was surprised to find how much she enjoyed it, as marine biology wasn't what had drawn her to biology in the beginning. She also, apparently, impressed the professor because he asked her to co-present with him. In fact, she was going ahead to coordinate their efforts at the conference, since he could only fly out the day they presented and then he had to leave a few hours after their presentation.

At first, she worried the cost would keep her from going. It involved flying to another country, staying there for days, and when she added in the conference registration and feeding herself while there, the overall bill looked to be pretty high. Luckily, between a travel grant and the department, she was able to fly to the conference, register, stay in the hotel, and eat without any cost to her. It was good thing since she had decided to attend school full-time and was living on loans and savings.

Then, she thought that her responsibilities to her children would keep her from going. The conference fell during her weekend with them, after all. It was that fact, and the fact that she felt guilty that this _wasn't_ the first fact to occur, which almost compelled Abby to turn down the opportunity. George had been amazing about the whole thing, however, agreeing to rearrange his plans so that Abby could take the children the weekend after the conference. He even seemed to understand and not hold the reason for Abby rescheduling against her. She wasn't sure if her children were as understanding, but she had decided to jump that hurdle when she returned to Canada.

So, there she was, in a cab with laptop and a suitcase, on her way from BWI to the Sheraton Inner Harbor Hotel. Actually, by the time she had that thought, her cab had pulled up to the door. Paying the driver and thanking him for helping her with her bags, she walked into the lobby. A lot of people were arriving. Abby couldn't tell who was there on vacation or business – at least not in all cases. A few of the high powered types in suits with cell phones attached to their ears clearly saw Baltimore as a working venue; however, academics were notoriously harder to spot. For example, the woman two people ahead of her in line, wearing the comfortable looking black travel knit outfit, could be here to present on some breakthrough in genome research or marine biology … or she could be here on vacation. October vacations may be out of the ordinary, but not unheard of.

As Abby finally stepped up to the desk to check in, she noticed one of those corporate types fly by her. Clearly a member of some hotel loyalty program, he walked right up to the special check-in area next to her. He was striking. Brown hair, but not flat or unattractive. He was wearing a well-tailored suit that Abby bet was a designer one. He probably had a sports car, maybe to make up for the slight graying she could see in his hair from where she stood. She briefly wondered who he was, but decided it wasn't important.

"Hi," Abby smiled at the young girl behind the desk. "I'd like to check in, if it is not too early?"

"No, ma'am," the girl behind the desk smiled. "What is the reservation under?"

"Lawson-Venturi. Abigail," Abby replied.

Of course, given all of her excitement and hurdles that she had jumped through successfully to date, there would be a problem with the room.

_Starting in the different place, arriving at the same time, with similar result… _

Baltimore in October. It might not be Dennis' first choice for this particular annual international law conference, but it was the first venue in a long time that made sense. For some reason, the planners of this meeting usually made awful decisions about where the annual meeting should be. For example, there was the year they planned it for Vegas in August. Or the time they planned it for West Palm Beach during hurricane season. He didn't go that year, which was a good thing, given the hurricane that hit West Palm that week. Nothing, however, topped the year they decided to have the meeting in Juneau, Alaska in January. Why anyone thought it was a good idea to meet in Alaska at any time that wasn't in the summer was beyond Dennis. Baltimore as a venue was a relief...and a nice break as a New York fall was just a little cooler than a Mid-Atlantic fall.

Of course, one of the reasons Dennis might have been in a strange mood about the conference this year was all the crap he had to go through to get there.

First, there was the assistant problem. His normal legal secretary, Janine, was on vacation. That wasn't necessarily a problem. Although Janine was a great asset to the firm and a godsend for him, Dennis didn't begrudge her time off. She, in fact, was usually pushing _him_ to take a break – when she wasn't reminding him about Casey's birthday or Lizzie's soccer tournament. With that last big case they just wrapped up, Janine deserved a vacation and she always left good notes and instructions for the temps who would fill in for her while she was gone.

The problem was the temp the agency sent. There was no way the girl was old enough to legally work! She claimed that she was nineteen, but she looked Elizabeth's age and reminded him so much of a nervous Casey that Dennis was afraid to correct her. For the last week, he'd been walking on eggshells around this temp and, unfortunately, because she was a temp, his travel plans were not what he expected.

Then, there was the flight. Instead of a direct flight out of JFK in New York to Baltimore Washington International Airport, the temp put him on a flight out of Newark that connected in Cincinnati before arriving at BWI. He hated connecting flights, but, when asked about it, she'd gotten a panicky look in her eyes that reminded Dennis so much of his eldest daughter that he insisted it was okay. He also felt another dose of guilt of having to miss Casey's last dance recital a few months ago because of a case he was working on at the time.

And finally, there was this exchange. After he landed in BWI, he pulled out his cell phone and called the office.

"Arnold and Porter, Dennis McDonald's office. This is Tracye. How can I be of service today?"

"Trayce, it's Dennis."

"Oh, Mr. McDonald," the flustered temp almost stuttered. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no. No problem," Dennis quickly reassured the temp. "I just landed at BWI. Are there any messages for me?"

"Um…Yes," Dennis heard papers rustling on the other side of the phone. "A Mr. Partwalk called about the expansion deal in France. A Ms. Atwell called about a contract dispute in Vancouver. Your ex-wife called to remind you about Elizabeth's soccer game next week, something about the regional tournament-"

"Crap. That's next week?" Dennis hated disappointing his girls, but he was afraid he was about to do it again.

"Oh! Did I do something wrong?" the 'nervous Casey' voice of the temp stammered through the phone.

"No, no," Dennis sighed. "Just make a note of it on my calendar and email to me so I can check the date in my Blackberry. Any other messages?"

"No, sir."

"Good," Dennis let out the breath he was holding. "So, where is the rental car?"

"…Excuse me, sir?"

Realizing that question wasn't clear, and how used he was to Janine, Dennis rephrased the question. "Which car rental agency should I go to pick up the car waiting for me at BWI? I'm sorry I didn't think to get that information from you while I was in New York."

"Oh," a quiet and worried response met Dennis' clearer questions.

"Case – I mean, Tracye. You did rent a car for me, right?" Dennis asked quietly.

"Well, you see, when you said you needed a car, I thought you meant like a car and driver or something. So I was asking around the office and I found a name and…well, someone should be there to meet you."

Dennis stopped and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. A few seconds later he opened his eyes and started to pay attention to all the people moving around the airport. As he was standing in baggage claim by this time, he looked around and saw what must be his ride. Some college student was there in a uniform with a sign that read "Mr. MacDonald". The stupid company didn't spell even his name right. Of course, that might have been Tracye as well. "Shit." Dennis was really hoping to have wheels to drive around Baltimore instead of being trapped, having to do things in walking distance or that had taxi service available.

"Did I make a mistake, Mr. McDonald?" a more panicked Tracye asked in a high pitched voice. Dennis would bet money that she would need a paper bag to breathe in after this conversation was over.

"No, it's fine. I wasn't clear. Thank you for making sure I had a way to the hotel, Tracye."

"You're welcome, Mr. McDonald."

"I'll call to check in when I get to the hotel and have Internet access."

"Absolutely, Mr. McDonald."

Wanting to help Tracye feel a little better about the whole exchange, since she sounded so much like a disappointed Casey, he added, "Could you pull the Magna file for me in the meantime? I might have a few questions about it when I call in."

"Of course, sir. It will be all ready when you call."

"Thank you, Tracye," Dennis said. "I do appreciate all you've done," Dennis added the social lie in hopes that it would help Tracye calm down a bit.

"Of course, sir," the temp replied, sounding almost professional and closer to her claimed age of nineteen.

That was thirty minutes ago. As the car arrived at the Sheraton Inner Harbor Hotel, Dennis was on the phone with one of the firm's partners. While at the conference, the partner wanted Dennis to touch base with the Baltimore branch of one of their clients; supposedly, there was some sort of issue. Dennis had hopped out of the car, still on the phone with the senior lawyer. He'd grabbed his travel bag and had his laptop on his shoulder as he breezed up to the rewards counter. Today he was very thankful for priority check-in, as he didn't think he could patiently stand in a line at that point.

"Welcome to the Sheraton, sir. How may I assist you?"

Ending his class with the partner, Dennis managed a smile for the young man behind the rewards check-in counter. "Yes, I'm here to check in. The last name is McDonald."

"Okay, one moment sir."

As Dennis waited for the young man to pull up his reservation, he noticed a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Red hair, actually. Dennis turned a bit to see a pretty red-head about his age checking in next to him. She seemed a little excited to be there, so he thought she might be on vacation. Then he noticed the laptop case hanging from the shoulder strap on her left side. So she was there for business. She didn't look familiar, though. Was she a new lawyer? Younger than he'd thought?

"Yes, Mr. McDonald. I have you reservation here. You are checking out on Monday morning?"

"Correct," Dennis confirmed, still paying a little more attention to the woman next to him than the hotel worker.

"Okay, I have you in a double on the fifth floor-"

"A what?!" Dennis whipped around. He couldn't have heard that correctly. Maybe it was time for him to pay attention to the check-in process.

"A double, sir," the young man repeated, looking a little subdued. Dennis really hoped he hadn't shouted at the boy.

"But, I requested a king," Dennis replied in (what he hoped) was a calmer voice. At least he was sure Tracye would have requested a room with a king bed.

"Let me check our records," the flustered young man said as he typed a few things into the computer in front of him. The pause in conversation allowed Dennis to hear part of the conversation next to him.

"What?" the red headed woman asked the girl checking her in. "But I asked for a king room."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we are currently all out of king rooms. It is possible that one might open up later this evening-"

"Mr. McDonald?" the young man assisting him had stopped typing. "Looking at our records, we didn't receive a special request for a king room at the time the reservation was made. I checked our availability and, unfortunately, we don't have a king room available at the moment-"

"So, no king room?" Dennis sighed.

"Well, if they are telling you that, it must be true," the red head next to him broke into their conversation. Apparently, she was listening to his exchange as well.

Dennis turned to face her, "It appears so. So, what do we do now?"

The woman chuckled. "Well, I have to take it. I'm on someone else's largesse, so I can't afford to be choosy."

Dennis laughed in return. "I'm in a similar boat. Everything I need is near this hotel, I don't have a rental car, and I don't want to give our finance department duck fits. But what do we do with our extra beds?"

"Well," the red head paused to thing for a second, "I suppose I could put my laptop and the stuff for my presentation on it."

"Extra storage? Nice idea," Dennis smiled.

"I try," the woman outright laughed that time. "So, we should check in?"

"We should check in," Dennis agreed and he turned back to the young man helping him. The check-in process went smoothly from that point on for both of them, it seemed. Dennis would admit, if anyone asked, that he did try to overhear the woman's room number, but hotel worker's spiel about the fitness center masked that information. Dennis did see her pay for the room, however. Given her nervousness in handing over the credit card for the room, she was clearly there on some corporate sponsorship. Dennis bet that the Visa was a business one.

The borrowed card and red hair intrigued him, so Dennis found himself waiting for her to finish and walking with her to bank of elevators to the rooms. Wanting to find out a little more about her, he found himself asking, "First time in Baltimore?"

"Actually, yes," the woman smiled. "It's beautiful."

"You'll have to check out the Aquarium while you're here. It's not that far from the hotel and worth the admission."

"Thank you. I will." She laughed after a beat. "Given my interest, that could almost be justified as work!"

"So, are you here for the legal conference?" Dennis asked, wondering about the reference to going to a popular attraction being work.

"No. I'm co-presenting at the biology conference. I take it you are a lawyer and not an academic, then?" the woman answered.

"Guilty," Dennis realized that reply was a little cheesy. "I hope you won't hold it against me?" He hoped the question came off as charming and not creepy.

"No….I have a thing for lawyers," the woman seemed to add as an afterthought.

"Law and Order addiction to Jack McCoy?" Dennis asked.

Luckily the woman laughed at that instead of looking at him like he was crazy. "As interesting as Jack McCoy can be, my personal interest is a little more mundane than that. But does invoking Jack McCoy usually work for you? I mean, your name isn't Jack, is it?"

"No. I'm Dennis," he introduced himself, offering his hand.

"Abigail," the woman replied as she shook his hand.

"So, Abigail, any big plans tonight for a Law and Order marathon or conference obligation?"

"I don't even know if I can catch Law and Order on the TVs in the hotel," Abigail laughed, "but after I pick up my conference materials, I don't have any big plans or must see TV to catch. Why?"

"Well, why don't you meet me for drinks tonight? In Morten's. I can give you all the tips on getting the most out of Baltimore." Dennis was shocked at what he has just offered. Or, to be more honest, of what he had spent the last part of the conversation setting up. Did he really just ask this Abigail out? What was he thinking? He didn't even know her last name! And how would she take it? It did seem a little like stalking behavior, which wasn't a good thing. The most telling thing was how out of practice he was. This whole exchange was almost as bad at the line he used on Nora back in college.

Abigail blinked a few times, clearly surprised. At that point, the elevator directly behind her binged and the door open. Just when Dennis was expecting an awkward, "no thank you," Abigail blushed and said, "Okay. What time?"

"What about eight?" Dennis found himself holding his breath. Was this actually working?

"Eight is fine. Where should I meet you?"

"How about here in the lobby?" Dennis rushed his reply, relieved. It would have been embarrassing if she had turned him down.

"Great. Well, I'll see you at eight tonight, then."

"See you at eight."

With that, the red haired Abigail stepped between the closing elevators doors with her luggage. Dennis decided that he would wait for another elevator to take him to his room instead of crowding onto that one with Abigail. He didn't want to push his luck.

As he waited, Dennis realized that he probably owed Tracye some flowers. Sure, all of Tracye's missteps had caused some problems, but, in the end, Dennis found himself thankful. There was no way he would have arrived here, a mere hours before his first date since his divorce, if it wasn't for Tracye not requesting a king bed like she should have.

- to be continued -


	3. Stepping Out

**Starting Over**

By: December

**Chapter 2 – Stepping Out**

_Later that day, from another point of view…_

As she stepped out of the elevator at 7:58pm, she wondered again what she was thinking. More specifically, she was wondering why she was treating this like a date.

After arranging to meet Dennis over drinks, Abby had gone up to her room and dropped off her stuff. She was still excited about being in Baltimore, but the reason for her excitement seemed to suddenly be more about that evening at 8pm than Friday at 2pm. That causal drinks had replaced her first conference presentation as her reason for excitement didn't really make sense, when she thought about it. It was why Abby tried not to think about it.

"Tried" being the key word.

She thought about it as she picked up the conference registration. She didn't mean to think about it. In looking at her own behavior, she wasn't nearly as…something with her fellow colleagues as she had been with the power lawyer stranger. She was the one who said the first word and the one who try to come up with a cute use for the extra bed in the room to share. She'd smiled, she'd laughed, she'd almost winked…and she hadn't behaved like that with anyone at conference registration. She didn't even introduce herself to some of them. As she walked back to her room, she had to wonder, "Was I flirting? With a stranger…whose last name I still don't know?"

She thought about it again when she made a call to her children. It took her longer than she would like to admit to figure out how to use her calling card in the hotel, but she was eventually connected to a familiar number in Ontario. Oddly enough, George hadn't been home. He was out "on a date," Edwin had said in the way all little boys did – as if dating was worthy of ridicule. Abby had heard Derek's groan in the background; it had made her laugh. She had enjoyed talking to all of her children and promised Marti that she would try to find a purple something in Baltimore to bring home.

After Abby said goodbye and thanked the sitter, she tried to think about how she felt about the idea of her ex dating. It didn't surprise her. She had a friend who was in a different graduate program who had given her a crash course in the sociology of marriage when Abby had first shared that she was getting a divorce. Abby didn't really want the information, but one thing had stood out. Men were much more likely to remarry than women. So, that George might be looking for wife number two, especially as he probably needed some help with serving as primary caretaker to their rather interesting children, wasn't surprising. Abby felt a brief twinge for half a second about her own lack of success as a Venturi wife, but that wasn't the lingering thought she had.

No. Abby was too busy wondering why she didn't mention that she was meeting someone for drinks. She had no reason to treat tonight like an international secret, but she was. Why did she think she had to keep it to herself?

She thought about it again as she got ready. She really could have just worn the pants outfit she had worn on the plane. It was just drinks, right? It wasn't anything formal or special. Abby told herself this as she showered; pulled out the black dress she had packed "just in case"; and swept up her hair. She repeated this to herself as she fought down some nausea as she looked in the mirror. The queasy stomach was telling. Her eldest got his tendency to hurl when nervous from her. She was much better about managing it now that she was older, but it did sneak up on her at times.

At least she probably wouldn't feel nausea nervous about her presentation the next afternoon.

So, there she was, standing in the lobby with a nice black dress – one Marti would call "swishy" – and heels, wondering why she cared so much. Was this so important because she had thought it would never happen to her again? Realistically, she was a passable woman who was closer to fifty than twenty. Boy, that was a sobering thought, especially given the fact that men tended to like younger women…and women who weren't divorced with a body that had clearly carried three children.

Abby glanced around the lobby as she touched the back of her hair again. She didn't see Dennis waiting for her. She looked at her watch. It was eight, exactly.

Maybe he wasn't coming, Abby thought to herself. Maybe the offer of drinks wasn't an actual offer. Like how people would ask, "How are you?" as an elongated greeting, not because they actually cared or wanted to know how you were. Or maybe he got a good look of her when she was entering the elevator and decided not to come. Abby felt sick again. She was going to look so silly if-

"Abigail? I'm sorry I'm a little late. Where you waiting long?" a voice said off to her right.

Turning toward that voice, she saw that Dennis has appeared while she was in her head. "No, I just got here myself," Abby smiled as if she hadn't been worrying in her head. Then she took a look at her companion for the evening…and started to laugh.

"That wasn't quite the reaction I was hoping for," Dennis responded to her laughter in a wry tone.

"I'm sorry," Abby apologized. "It's just…does your secretary fix your tie before you go to court?"

"Well…yes," Dennis answered, looking puzzled. "But, how did you know?"

"Because it's not on straight now. Here," before she thought about it, Abby leaned in and fixed his tie. "Oh…I'm sorry. I didn't mean -"

Dennis smiled. "No. It's fine. This way I won't embarrass myself around you. You look great, by the way."

Abby blushed at that. "Thank you. Well," she continued after a pause, "you promised drinks?"

Dennis nodded. "Of course," He offered his arm, which Abby took, a little charmed by the gesture. "Morton's is also a steak house. Are you hungry? Up for dinner?"

"Dinner?" Abby blinked. "I hadn't-"

"At least appetizers. On me. Think of it as something to pair the drink with."

Abby smiled, "In that case, sure. Lead on." Now she had a real incentive to work to keep her lunch down.

Instead of staying in the hotel, Dennis led Abby outside to a steakhouse not the far away. Abby thanked everything higher power she could think of that she only owned sensible heels now. It wasn't a far walk, but she was past the age where she would have done in gracefully in three inch spikes. They didn't talk much until after they were settled at a table.

"This is beautiful," Abby couldn't help saying as she reached for the menu in front of her.

Dennis didn't laugh at her awe. "Inner Harbor is one of those beautiful places on the water. In that way it's a lot like San Antonio…but with seafood instead of TexMex."

"I've never been to San Antonio," Abby admitted. "I'll admit that I'm not even one hundred percent sure where that is. It's in Texas, right? Don't they have a hockey team or something?"

"Yes, I think so. They are the Ram…something. It's not a National Hockey League team, though. I'm actually surprised you know of San Antonio because of hockey. You don't look the type to follow hockey."

"It grows on you," Abby admitted. "And it is practically a requirement to love hockey at home-"

"Where is home?" Dennis interrupted. "Boston? Buffalo? Toronto?"

"Toronto most recently," Abby shared. "But before that it was London. And before that, Windsor."

"I thought I heard Ontario in your voice," Dennis smiled. "I was born and raised in Toronto."

"Really?" Abby laughed. "I wasn't expecting my Baltimore concierge to be a fellow Canadian. Are you still in Toronto?"

"Not for the most part. I spend most of my time in New York."

"But you travel a lot, hence your reference to San Antonio," Abby raised an eyebrow.

"I have been a few places," Dennis admitted with a slight shrug. "But San Antonio is one of those places you don't forget. The River Walk is stunning. I think it even rivals Inner Harbor for its waterfront views and ambiance. But Maryland definitely has better seafood."

"Good to know," Abby smiled. There were a few beats of silence as Abby tried to come up with something else to say. Did she ask about New York? Or his law conference? Or if he had Rolaids because her stomach had started doing flips again?

Before she could come up with anything, a waiter appeared at their table. "Welcome to Morton's. My name is Tre and I'll be your server this evening. I can take your drink orders, if you need a little time with out menu."

Abby glanced down at the closed menu in front of her in horror, before looking up. "I – well, in all of our talking, I never thought to look at the menu!"

"That's okay," Dennis smiled. "But did you have anything in mind to drink?"

"Oh, just a glass of chardonnay, I guess," Abby replied.

"Are you hungry, too?" Dennis asked.

"Not for a lot," Abby admitted – honestly, because she was continuing to tell herself all evening that she was not on a date and, therefore, didn't need to impress anyone. "But a little something might be nice."

"Well, you should try some of Maryland's signature dish, if you are up for it."

"That…sounds great, actually," Abby admitted.

"Trust me to order for you?" Dennis confirmed.

"You're the Canadian Baltimore expert," Abby smiled back.

"Okay, Tre," Dennis smiled as he turned to the waiter. "The lady will have a glass of the Canyon Road Chardonnay and the Crab Cake bar bite. I'll have a Sam Adams and the Petit Filet Mignon Sandwiches."

"Excellent choices, sir. I'll have those drinks right to you," the waiter promised as he took their menus and walked away.

"Crab cakes?" Abby asked

"Maryland is famous for them. Sure, this isn't Phillips, but the crab cakes will still be very good here," Dennis promised.

"It sounds like someone should take me to Phillips, so that I can compare," Abby said before she thought about it. Then her mouth dropped open in shock and she felt herself turn five shades of red. "Oh! I didn't mean-"

"No, no. You have a point. We also need to go to Phillips while you are here so that you can have the real deal. Maybe for dinner before you leave?"

"I wasn't fishing for an invitation," Abby insisted.

"I know," Dennis smiled. "That's why I'm offering."

Abby knew she should turn him down, but she saw something in his eyes then. Something that reminded her of Derek when he was asking for something he really wanted, but was afraid he wouldn't get. She'd seen something like that look in Dennis' eyes when he asked her to join him for drinks tonight. Abby was a little shocked that she could put such a look into the face of male that didn't call her "Mom". It was amazingly flattering. "Okay, then. It's a da- a promise then."

"A promise?" Dennis laughed.

"Well…we have to call it something, right?"

"That sounds like something Casey would say."

"Casey?" Abby asked. With that one name, Abby was reminded of how much she didn't know about Dennis.

_Across the same table, maybe in a different mental place…_

"Casey?" his charming dining companion asked. "Is he…a friend?"

Dennis guessed that he looked a little sheepish. Even when men are completely innocent, it can still cause a cold sweat when the female you are with asked about the name of a different female you just used. "My daughter, actually," Dennis explained in answer to Abigail's question.

"A daughter. How old is she?" Abigail asked in a subdued voice.

"She'll be fifteen soon. Her sister turned twelve this year."

"Two girls?" Abigail's eyes widened. Dennis wasn't quite sure what to make of her shock, but he worried that the evening was over at that point. "Your wife must love the chance to take them shopping."

"Ex-wife. I'm divorced," Dennis admitted, wondering if that was a nail in his coffin.

"Divorced?" Abigail asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," Dennis replied. "And I realize that sounds like a pick-up line. But it's not. I…won't have to produce divorce papers, will I?"

Abigail did laugh at that point, which made Dennis feel a little better. "No, I believe you. At least now when I say I'm a divorced mother of three, you won't think it's a line either."

"Really? You, too?" Dennis was surprised. What were the odds of that?

"Yes, me too. You've heard the figures that half of marriages fail. It probably makes sense that divorced people are just as likely to bump into each other than the never-marrieds."

"True," Dennis nodded.

Abigail smiled at him. "Is this the point where we pull out pictures of our brood and act little the proud displaced parents we are?"

"Displaced?" Dennis asked, surprised by the word.

Abigail smiled along with her forthcoming explanation, even though that smile appeared forced for the first time this evening. "Well, my ex has primary custody of our three children, and I'm assuming that your two girls live with your ex."

"Yes," Dennis acknowledged, a little surprised that a mother didn't have primary custody. It might make sense though, if her ex made more than she did. "It is a little different that your ex has custody."

"A little," Abigail acknowledged at the same time their drinks arrived. Tre had barely left the table before Abigail had the wine glass in her hand. Dennis got the feeling she was using it as a shield for something.

"How is he coping with three little babies at home?" Dennis found himself asking as a way to try to get Abigail's shield back down, even though he wasn't sure why he cared. Or why _that_ came out of his mouth. He was usually much better with people than he had been so far tonight.

"Huh?" Abigail blinked for a second, a confused look replacing the defensive one that had begun to appear in her eyes.

"I mean, if you are a mother of three, you must have triplets who are now less than three years old. I just know I'd be pretty useless in that situation," Dennis improvised. He hoped that response helped, but he had a feeling he had just taken himself out with friendly fire.

Abigail stared at him. Then she slowly put down her wine glass. Dennis had no idea what was going on in her head. He could read contracts backwards and forwards, could see how judges (and the occasional jury) were thinking about an issue, but women had always been a black box for him. Even with his girls, he struggled. Dennis clearly had problems understanding people who had two X chromosomes. The only thing he could pick up for Abigail's expression and actions was that she wasn't going to throw her wine at him.

"That," she said after a pause and accompanied by a blush, "is probably the most flattering thing I've heard in a long time. Thank you. But my oldest is fifteen and my youngest is five." Abigail smiled.

"Well," Dennis smiled in relief. "I stand corrected."

"Ontario winters have probably just frozen me over some much that I'm well preserved," his dinner companion laughed.

"Oh, I don't believe that. Or everyone in Canada would look under thirty-five. Unless you were more exposed to winter than most?" Dennis winked.

Abigail laughed again, this time taking a sip from her water glass before continuing. "I might have been at that. I had a slightly hockey mad husband who raised two rather hockey mad boys. Thank goodness my daughter was more into ballet than hockey. But my eldest starting playing hockey as soon as he could balance on ice skates, and I was usually the one who went with him to the rink," Abigail shrugged. "Growing up, I also used to figure skate, so."

"Figure skating? Did you ever represent Canada in the Olympics?"

"Goodness, I was never that good!" Abigail insisted. "It was just for fun. And it's been a while since I've hit a rink. I think I've lost a lot of what I could do. The last jump I learned was a double toe loop, so I wouldn't have been able to hack it in the Games with just a bunch of spins and a single axle."

"I don't know. I would have watched you do spins and a single axle," Dennis found himself sharing.

Abigail blushed. "If you keep this up, I'll be red all night. So, why don't you tell me about Baltimore instead?"

That is how Dennis found himself spending the rest of the evening talking about Baltimore. They never did exchange pictures of their children…but they did make arrangements to meet for dinner at Phillips the next night. And they exchanged business cards with email addresses. In this new age of technology, he had no idea of this was equivalent of getting a girl's number, but at least he had a way to contact her, should he appear in Toronto at some point. That was important for him…because here was someone to whom he could talk that wouldn't be talking about pairing him off or that he needed to get out more. She probably understood what he was like more than anyone else he knew. He could run with that.

And she loved the crab cakes. Good taste in food was also a plus.

- to be continued -

_I wanted to drop a quick note to let everyone know that there is more story planned, but it is not (as of yet) currently written. I do hope to have another update for you in the near future, at least for me, but I didn't want to hold this chapter another month or more while I waited to write more._

_Thanks to all of you who are reading this story and enjoying it. I also have to thank all of the editors from brigits_flame on LJ who helped edit the first two chapters of this and everyone on my LJ who commented on drafts of all the chapters to date. Thank you all for your support and encouragement._


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